


i'll haunt your bones (keep me safe in your arms)

by Saccharine_smiles



Category: IDENTITY V, 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, Self-Indulgent, cope, i'm a baby who doesn't like angst, or slowburn, sorry - Freeform, there's like no sadness i just want them to be happy and in love, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saccharine_smiles/pseuds/Saccharine_smiles
Summary: in which the shadows that dance on the walls come to play and the boy you love guides you out of the dark."-it makes him want to reach out and hold him, take his hands into his own and lace their fingers. he wonders if andrew would ever allow that, he wonders if he’d ever be enough.(but the way andrew’s looking at him, he thinks that maybe, maybe, he is enough--)the words “golden cave” flash across the screen and norton loses his breath."
Relationships: Norton Campbell | Prospector/Andrew Kreiss | Grave Keeper
Comments: 13
Kudos: 147





	i'll haunt your bones (keep me safe in your arms)

secrets in the manor were not uncommon. so many people of different backgrounds in one space leads to allyship, and allyship, brings secrets. so when whispers of a new map began spreading around the manor, norton thought nothing of it. talks of it being bigger than the others, more complicated to navigate, it wasn’t until the word “cave” was muttered a number of times did norton’s hands curl into fists. he doesn’t want to think of the implications of yet another map that might be tied to a survivor. this game is cruel, but not that cruel...right?

(oh, how wrong he was).

norton’s the first to arrive in the waiting room. his steps reverberate across the room as he makes his way towards the table and sits upon the creaking chair. his fingernails bite into his palms and his knee bounces beneath the old wood. he waits.

the other survivors slowly filter into the room, emma and fiona enter together, no doubt engrossed in a one sided conversation between the two. he spares them a nod, emma’s exuberant wave and fiona’s own nod back greet him. the room is filled with the girls soft chatter as the last person finally makes it into the room. norton pays them no mind. that is, until emma’s delighted yell of “andrew!” greets his ears and he whirls around. 

andrew, is indeed, the fourth survivor of the match. norton’s heart picks up the slightest bit after seeing him. he and andrew are...something. friends, yes, but there’s always been _something_ between the two that neither can put a finger on. their relationship was slow starting, initially being drawn to the other when andrew first arrived and found norton in the garden. they were both prone to silence, both being bad with words and andrew being quick to assume the worst of other’s intentions, their first few meetings were simply kept to sitting beside each other, enjoying the evening.

norton had once made the mistake of commenting on andrew’s physical appearance and that mishap had caused the slightest riff between the two for a spell. it wasn’t until norton apologized and andrew explained his past, both sitting close, heads bowed together over cups of tea at andrew’s little side table, that the line between friendship and something else began to blur. touches that lingered a bit too long, eye contact that has held until both their faces were the color of the setting sun, fingers brushing the slightest bit together when they walked, norton looking at andrew rather than the night sky when they went stargazing together, (not knowing that andrew too, often found himself following the line of norton’s profile with his eyes when he wasn’t looking).

so yes, norton does happen to think about andrew a whole lot and maybe the sight of him makes his heart stutter (and maybe andrew thinks about him a whole lot and writes love letters to norton that he’ll never send but now that’s a discussion for another day) but they are strictly _friends_ (at least he hopes so).

he watches as andrew smiles shakily at emma, having been startled by her yell, and he sends a small wave to fion, until (finally) turning his attention to norton.

this time his smile isn’t as shaky and his wave isn’t as small (but his cheeks might be a little _too_ pink) as he makes his way over to sit beside him. he places his heavy shovel on the table (norton was astounded at the heaviness of the shovel the first time he held it. andrew may have been lithe but he was by no means weak) and norton, ever the gentleman ( _only for him_ , his mind supplies) pulls the chair out for andrew. 

this time the blush that blooms on andrew’s face is reflected back on norton’s own as a quiet “thank you.” is whispered for only him to hear. it’s almost drowned out by the giggles of the two girls, _almost._ once sitting, andrew turns his full attention to norton and norton is struck, once again, by andrew. in the low lamplight of the manor, he looks ethereal. he’s a vision. he’s beautiful.

“hello norton.” andrew says quietly, the words rattle around in norton’s head and stay there. he likes when andrew says his name, he wishes he would say it more often.

“hello andrew.” norton replies, just as quietly, but the words sound loudly in andrew’s mind and he too wishes his name would be spoken more often by those lips.

the light chatter continues as they fall into one another. their chairs are close, closer than they were before they arrived, and something that norton is very endeared by, is andrew’s habit to talk with his hands. they’re small movements, but movements nonetheless. it makes him want to reach out and hold him, take his hands into his own and lace their fingers. he wonders if andrew would ever allow that, he wonders if he’d ever be enough.

(but the way andrew’s looking at him, he thinks that maybe, _maybe,_ he is enough--)

the words “golden cave” flash across the screen and norton loses his breath.

his gasp startles andrew from his recollection of the previous days events (he had aided luca in his work and had learnt not only the difference between a wrench and a screwdriver, but also that they are both very painful when dropped on one’s foot) as he looked to norton in concern.

andrew knows of his past, not all of it, but enough. he knew of the accident, the aftermath, his guilt, (he’s unaware of the shadows that rest at the back of his mind, the ones’s that creep up when he blinks and that turn his fingertips numb) but he knows enough to connect _cave_ to his reaction and subsequently, places his hand atop norton’s. 

(that’s what norton loves about him. his kindness envelops everyone in the room. he cares so much and it’s not out of a sense of justice or benevolence, he never had such luxuries. he cares because he knows what it’s like to be be neglected, what it’s like to be alone. he’s as kind and as beautiful as the flowers he spends his time with).

despite the hand on his, his throat feels tight and his fingers shake--

but andrew’s looking at him with one wide eye and his fingers are tightening around norton’s own so he puts on a smile and pushes down his panic, his fear, the urge to flee and claw through every brick in this manor to _get out._ he’d clear a path out and only come back to take andrew’s hand and lead him through the rubble, to get them _both_ out.

“you ready?” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and lips pulled too tight over teeth.

andrew doesn’t look convinced, his furrowed eyebrow tells enough of his true feelings. he likes to think he _knows_ norton and the thought that he’s not okay settles uneasily in his stomach. it feels like a stone is weighing him down and something is crawling up his throat. it feels like something bad is going to happen and that...scares him. 

but as much as he knows norton isn’t telling him something, he trusts him. 

(trust, for him, is not an easy concept. growing up the way he did, trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. but norton makes it so easy. trusting norton, being with norton, comes naturally).

and so, andrew gives norton’s hand on last squeeze before pulling away.

“i’m ready.”

\------

norton wasn’t ready. (good god, he wasn’t ready)

opening his eyes to the sound of glass breaking, he finds it hard to breath. his knees crash into the dirt and his hands fly to cover his face.

_this can’t be happening._

and yet, here he was. in the same mine that often finds himself at night. the walls are the way he remembers them, the rocks shift and creak as eyes pass over, he knows if he looks too closely he’ll see _something_ he doesn’t want to remember. the ground under his feet is sturdy but he thinks he might fall through the ground anyway. 

(fall down, down, until he’s buried under the rubble and can’t be found ever again).

he can’t breathe and the walls are closing in and he feels _something_ looking back at him through the spaces between his fingers, between the rocks and gems and blood and tears and the hand reaching him isn’t quite human and it’s not quite there but it _is_ there and he’s terrified and--

“norton!”

a current of adreneline at the mention of his name and he’s crawling away before his mind can even register what’s happening. his fingers catch on the stones, just like how they used to, the dirt mars his hands and he can’t see well and he’s not sure if it’s because of the tears blinding him or the fact that he can’t _breathe_.

“norton!”

his stomach flips.

“norton…”

he’s sick.

\------

there’s something sitting a bit away from him. 

not close enough to be a threat, but close enough to know there’s something there. a small, scarred hand is placed between the two of them, outstretched to norton as he trembles on hands and knees. 

he blinks, and then he blinks some more.

it’s familiar, but so is everything here. he doesn’t want to look up. (but he does, because if it’s _him_ who the hand belongs to, then maybe he’ll be alright.)

his eyes slowly follow the hand, wrist, forearm, elbow, until he sees _him._

a shaky smile makes his way onto his face as he meets the one eye shown to him, and his trembling hand slides across the dirt, over rocks and all, until their fingertips touch.

every inch of him is on fire and he’s a dying man.

he’s ashamed to see andrew’s own eyes filling with tears. if only he wasn’t so _weak--_

“i’m here.”

norton blinks, and the tears continue to fall.

“i’m here, norton. you don’t have to be strong. please, lean on me if you must.”

andrew’s fingers slowly rise over his own, but don’t proceed further. his hand is dirty too, and small. their fingers lace together like the stems of a tree and a thumb soothes the bruises on his knuckles. the touch is just enough to keep him aware, his head is still floating and norton feels like trembling glass, but it doesn’t feel like he’s about to shatter anymore.

they sit there, just the two of them. their knees in the dirt and arms outstretched with only one point of contact.

seconds turn to minutes and the earth itself has stopped. there is no longer the setting sun or a gravitational pull, norton’s floating and the walls speak and the flowers in andrew’s garden wilt and he’s all chipped fingernails and wet lashes and yet andrew holds on even tighter.

he won’t float away.

the hand that holds his own trembles almost as much as he does and norton wants to say something but his voice was gone the second he opened his eyes. it was gone the second he was born into this world and realized just how cruel it truly was. it was gone the day he crawled through the rubble, made it to the other side, and realized that there’s nothing in this life that’s fair.

_i’m sorry._

they don’t deserve this.

_i’m sorry._

he was just a boy.

_i’m sorry--_

“there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

norton looks back up to andrew and sees his own sorrow reflected on his face. the bow of his lip looks sad and the tears press shadows into his face. his mouth is pulled into a shaky frown and his eyes look like broken glass.

and norton realizes that maybe this place scares andrew as much as it does him.

“norton.” he whispers. “norton, i need to get you off the ground. i’m gonna help you stand up now, okay?”

a nod.

hands press firmer as they wrap around his own and guide him up. andrew touches him with a gentleness he’s only felt from him for years and it makes warmth bloom on his skin. the fire on his skin died minutes ago and he was left so cold, but everywhere andrew presses, he leaves a trail of heat. he’s still keeping his touches to a minimum, as not to overwhelm him, and norton couldn’t be more thankful.

his knees sting as a stands and looking down, he’s dizzy to find they’re both bloody and bruised. his hands, too, are slick between andrew’s.

“when you collapsed” a gentle voice cuts through his musings “i think you cut yourself on the stones.” andrew nods his head to a space behind him but norton just squeezes his hands tighter. 

he doesn’t want to look.

he’s guided to rest against one of the many rock formations in the cave as andrew carefully guides his head back up to look at him. his hands cup either side of norton’s face and his thumbs stroke his cheekbones, pressing lightly on the one covered by a scar. norton shakily brings his own hands to cover andrew’s own and closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

he still feels jumpy. his skin is glass and one wrong move will cause him to shatter, but andrew is oh so gentle, and holds norton together, whole in his hands. 

norton feels broken--

“you’re not broken.”

his eyes flutter open.

“j-just because some pieces are missing or bruised doesn’t mean you’re not whole.” andrew whispers to him in a voice laced with so much love norton feels like he might drown.

they stand like this for who knows how long. they don’t know and they don’t care, they’re staring into each other's eyes and it’s just the two of them. they’re neither here nor there, but they’re together and it’s okay.

slowly, andrew takes norton’s hands in his own and starts wrapping them in gauze he’s pulled from his pocket. a laugh startles out of norton at the sight, of _course_ andrew would carry something like that with him. that’s just like him.

“don’t laugh” andrew pouts, glancing up at norton as his fingers curl over norton’s own “i’m a r-rescuer afterall…”

“i know...” norton whispers, leaning his head back against the wall “thank you andrew.”

that makes andrew blush and a mutter of “no need to thank me.” is spoken before a comfortable silence envelops the two.

norton’s eyes open when he feels andrew crouch down to start tending to his cut knees. he’s delicate in the way he handles norton, touching lightly and only to provide care. (were norton not so exhausted he would have cracked a joke and andrew would have blushed and they both would have laughed but as it is, he simply stares languidly as andrew wraps his knees in cloth).

his busy mind fills enough of the silence between them. _something_ still creeps in the back of his mind, shadows and lingering thoughts that he doesn’t want to think about, not here, not now. maybe later, in the comfort of his own room, ideally with andrew at his side to get him through it but hey, he’s not picky.

andrew stands back up and he’s all pink cheeks and a crooked smile and still wet eyes and norton kind of wants to kiss him right now but he won’t, not here, not now. not when they’re both shaky and tired. even though andrew’s cupping his cheeks and asking if he’s alright because he knows he’s been staring at his lips for a little too long but he’s alright because andrew’s here.

“i’m--” norton cuts himself off, because he’s _not_ okay and he doesn’t want to lie to andrew, not when he’s taking care of norton like this. not when he’s staring up at norton with one visible eye that holds so much concern. 

“i’m not...okay. but i will be.”

and he will be. because andrew takes his hand and guides him to the nearest cipher machine and keeps one hand in norton’s and it’s a terrible thing really. because his decoding is even slower than usual and both their hearts are pounding out of their chests, even though no hunter is nearby, and the pink on their cheeks seems to be permanent as every glimpse of eye contact between the two leaves them breathless.

he wants to look over, past the minimal space between them and watch as andrew concentrates, but his mind wills that fantasy away. (and perhaps it’s a shame that he didn’t, for he would have found andrew looking at him much like he wished to look at andrew, and maybe their love, in that moment, could have been a little bolder). 

but, like all good things, this too, comes to an end, because the hunter _does_ find them and andrew pushes norton away towards the ladder and tells him to

 _run._

norton’s in no shape to kite, he knows this, andrew knows this, but it doesn’t hurt any less to leave andrew’s side. to watch him keep jack distracted as norton grasps the ladder with shaky hands and pulls himself up. he feels so tired, he’s shaky, and remembering andrew’s trembling hands in his own, he feels sick.

_andrew’s resilient. he’ll be okay._

norton pretends that he doesn’t see the blood seeping through his wrapped palms, just as be pretends he doesn’t hear andrew’s yelp as jack catches him in the side.

\------

norton eventually makes it a cipher machine. he closes his eyes and breathes deeply before getting to work. his fingers fly over the keys as he tries (and fails) to keep his mind at the task at hand. he misses calibrations and everytime he jumps but 

_it’s okay_ he tells himself. 

(the minutes it takes to pop the last two ciphers are perhaps the longest of norton’s life).

when the last cipher pops and andrew goes down, norton finds that once again, he can’t breathe. he’s chaired in quick succession and his pings of “don’t rescue me” echo through the cave and rattle norton’s bones. he _knows_ there’s no chance of getting andrew. jack’s camping and upset at only getting one down and norton knows there’s no way he can rescue andrew _and_ get them both out, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

he books it to the gate and ignores the pain in his chest.

\------

seeing andrew back at the manor after the match, hair mused and expression disgruntled, but otherwise unharmed, makes something in norton snap. quick steps lead him to where andrew stands, waiting for _him_ (if the lighting up of his face when he sees norton is any indication). he grabs andrew’s hand and pulls him to his chest. he’s shaking so much he thinks he might collapse on the spot until andrew wraps his arms around norton, just as tight, and buries his face in norton’s neck.

andrew’s eyelashes tickle norton’s neck and he’s _so_ in love. norton campbell is so in love with andrew kreiss he thinks he might be drowning.

and so,

he tells him.

“i love you.” norton whispers out when they break apart. they’re inches apart and their noses are almost touching and the way andrew’s eye opens wide and his face blooms pink will haunt his dreams.

“you--you’re ridiculous.” andrew says without malice, in fact, it’s said with so much warmth it’s norton’s turn to bloom pink. “you absolute fool of a man. i love you too.”

\------

they lie together, andrew on top of norton, his chin propped against his chest. half lidded eyes raise to meet norton’s and the blush that rises to his face makes andrew fluster as well. he’s beautiful lying across him like this. legs tangled together and hand reaching over to cover his own. fingers slide between his and palms press together as he cranes his neck to peer at his lover.

“hey.” norton whispers to the quiet room. the words echo off the walls and land softly on the floor.

“hi.” andrew whispers back, eyes shutting in contentment as he turns his head to rest over norton’s chest, right above his pounding heart that beats just for him. it beats as happily as andrew’s own, blooming right there in their chests. 

it’s quiet as their breath evens out and norton rests his own head back against the bed, melting into the body above him and the earth beneath them. it’s only him and andrew. it’s always been andrew.

a shift brings him back to focus. andrew’s shimmying his way up norton’s torso to stare down at him from above. his face is directly above norton’s as his hair tickles his cheeks. 

he looks like a vision. 

he’s painted the prettiest of pinks as he lowers his head until their lips touch. andrew sighs into norton’s mouth and norton breathes him in. during the kiss, his hands find purchase in andrew’s hair as they move together. breaking apart, norton looks at him with glossed eyes and realizes this is it. loving andrew is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. being loved by andrew is the greatest thing he’s ever gonna get.

where andrew touches leaves flowers buds in their wake. his lips make them bloom and norton is alive. he’s so alive. being with andrew, that’s living. loving andrew and being loved by andrew are perhaps the best things in the world.

“i love you” he chokes out. it feels like a hand is pressing down on his chest, reaching down, down into his heart. but it needn’t look further, his heart already belongs to andrew anyway. “i love you so much.” this time, with tears.

(and it’s silly isn’t it? they said these same words just an hour before but no matter how many times these words will be said between the two, they will always be accompanied by tears. they’ll wipe the tears from the other’s cheeks and pepper their lips over the others faces and then do it all over again. do everything all over again. he wants to love andrew in every lifetime.)

he watches as andrew’s eyes widen and gloss over, much like his own. his hand slides loose from norton’s as it comes to cup his face, andrew’s lips trace his face as he kisses away the tears. the heat from his cheeks is enough to warm norton’s as well. rising up once again, a shaky smiles lights andrew’s face up.

“i love you, too.” he speaks to him and it feels like he’s floating and andrew is the only thing keeping him anchored. his body is light on his,so maybe andrew’s the one floating away (he is, oh he is. norton’s hand in his own is the only thing keeping him grounded. and he wouldn’t have it any other way). “i love you, norton campbell.” and when the words break free they fill the spaces between them, it blurs the lines where one ends and the other beings, it paints their skin pink and makes their eyelashes flutter.

andrew has such beautiful lashes. they rest upon his cheeks and flutter when he laughs. norton’s counted them a thousand times, and he’ll count them a thousand more. the way he gazes down at him makes norton want to kiss him again.

(so he does.)

norton rises onto his elbows and touches his lips to andrew’s scars, his nose, his eyelids, and finally rest upon his lips once again.

andrew’s laces their fingers where they rest upon the bed and norton’s thumbs trace hearts onto the back of his hand.

he does this a lot.

he’s been drawing hearts on the walls since they first met and andrew’s never let them wash away. he’s added his own, in fact, to create a place where there love can rest easily, where their feelings are laid bare and it’s just them and their fingers tangled and their hearts on the wall.

loving andrew is like coming home. it’s open arms welcoming you into him and eyelashes brushing against your cheek. it’s stargazing under a billion stars but only looking at the one lying next to you. it’s interlaced fingers and the kisses that follow in their footsteps. 

loving norton is like coming home. it’s arms stronger than your own holding you so gently, as if you’re delicate. it’s smiles pressed against your neck and breathless laughter that tickles your ears. it’s thinking you’re alone only to reach out and find someone else who was looking for _you_.

the moment’s perfect and yet,

there’s still that _something_ in the back of his mind. so norton clears his throat and looks into andrew’s eyes.

“andrew,” he begins. “i want my love to be big enough to hold you, all of you. i want to be enough--”

“you are enough” andrew finishes “you’re more than enough for me.” he brushes the hair back from norton’s face and leans his face against his. “norton, i’ll love you even on days you can’t love yourself.”

_god, he’s in love with him._

norton groans and rests his forehead against andrew’s own. 

“you’re something else, kreiss.” he speaks in a shaky voice, and if andrew hears the way his voice cracks on the last word, he doesn’t mention it. he simply brings his hands up to norton’s face and touches their noses together.

andrew traces his fingers across the scar on norton’s face and leans down to press his lips to it. holding them there, the words he mouths against his skin seep deep, deep down into his weary bones and hold him together. they guide him to bed, they tell him he is loved, that he is whole. they speak of love so grand that it sweeps norton off his feet and right into andrew.

and the garden that blooms in their chests bring forth the most beautiful flowers and the shadows in their minds grow a little smaller and they both know, they’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> phew this took me So long to do. i just love them so much and had so many ideas i had to cut out. i apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, i'll go back and fix them in the upcoming days TT
> 
> thank you so much for reading this, it really means a lot to me <3
> 
> this is for all the nortdrew lovers out there, especially tar, who makes me cry with their nortdrew ㅇㅅㅇ
> 
> also! i'm @/andrewblueprint on twitter if you'd ever like to drop in and say hello!


End file.
